Puddles from Moonth by Merce Lemon

My words are puddles
Scattered ‘cross the floor
You tried to weave your
Way around them
But I just kept making more

I got the best of me
I drew a perfect circle
But no one was looking

I got the best of me
I tried to fly
But nothing was working

Turn up the time again
This room hasn’t changed
There I am sneaking
Stretching chords
Just to hear what the grownups say

I got the best of me
I dreamt the child I was
Into being

I got the best of me
Awkward silence is all I'm hearing

My words are puddles
Scattered ‘cross the floor
You tried to weave your way around them
But I just kept making more

You tried to weave your way around them
But I just kept making more

This room feels like a time warp

• Folk
• americana
• folk rock
• rock
• singer-songwriter
• Pittsburgh